


lazy summer garden

by mayfieldmayhem



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen, just something prosey about krillie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 04:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayfieldmayhem/pseuds/mayfieldmayhem
Summary: you become a beast.





	lazy summer garden

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for body horror,, like a lot  
> stay safe!!

you bleed.

well, no, it isn’t blood. It’s black and brown and dark and it tastes like swallowing dirty stream water mixed with this unearthly undertone. you don’t bleed so much as you cough it out, and you are convinced that whatever died inside of you is trying to come out.

there _is_ something dead inside you. you carry it in your stomach and it feels cold and hollow, but also heavy and white-hot. whatever it is, it drags your bones down with the force of it.

you wake up, spitting leaves and something reddish black into the pine needles. they prick your hands but you do not feel a thing, not a single thing. you swear there are insects in your skin and you scratch at it until your skin is raw and bleeding. there’s dirt under your nails, in your hair, in your mouth and nose and ears. you’re dirty. you’re impure.

the trees call to you, pull you into them and you think it might be god. you belong here. you belong in the darkness. you are made of it. it is inside you. the trees whisper: repent. repent. repent.

the soft animal in you has been murdered, you think. maybe you were always the wolf. you had claws and fangs before you knew what to do with them. you are not soft. you are not gentle. you haven’t been human in a long time and you don’t think you ever will be and hey, you don’t deserve it. 

your neck is - it bleeds, but it’s black and thicker than you remember blood ever being. sometimes you swear there’s flecks of gold. sometimes roses bloom from the wound and it hurts because the thorns dig roughly into your skin and burst from it, and you love it because this is what you deserve. this is what you need. if you can’t punish yourself, you’re glad some otherworldly forces can.

your ears ring and your eyes go black. justice has been seen to. you’re dead, you know it, but you want to die over and over again. you shove mud down your throat and when you cough up pebbles later you smile. nothing will ever make up for the horrors you committed, but being stuck in its domain makes it a little easier to suffer.

you drink from moss. it’s earthy and you’re not sure what to make of it but you don’t care. you wonder what jay would think of you. what tim would think of you. you - they, you think, won’t end up here. wherever here is, you hope they’re too good for it.

then sometimes you get angry. you hope jay and tim and brian are stuck here with you. you hope they find you and are horrified by what they see. you hope that if you smile and show them the filthiness of you, they back away a little in terror. if you deserve to suffer, they do too. you shouldn’t be the only one. you howl and carve that goddamn symbol into every tree you see because you know it’ll stay there forever. you rake your fingers (claws?) through the dirt in little trails that get covered. you are fierce-burning fury.

you climb trees and fall from them. you fall into the pitch black sky and dark angry branches tear you apart. you spit out the most vile shit you’ve ever seen and you don’t feel a single goddamn thing. you gave up your softness. you love no one and no one loves you.

you wonder if forgiveness will ever be in your reach. something tells you it never will.


End file.
